


to meet is surely where we're bound

by loupiter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fate, Fluff, M/M, did i mention fluff????, fluffy fluffy fluff that needs to be stopped, im so grossed out at myself, its implied more than explicitly stated, just a guaranteed trip to the dentist, louis is a sap, no smut here folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupiter/pseuds/loupiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is 18, up in the air and being forced to spend a weekend with his family at a friend's wedding instead of attending Leeds Fest. However, he ends up having a much better time in the quiet village of Holmes Chapel than he expects - and it may or may not have something to do with the boy whose house they stay in. </p><p>Based on <a href="http://loupiter.tumblr.com/post/51514434313/bravery-till-we-surrender-bowties-and-boo">this</a> painful post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to meet is surely where we're bound

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for angst you've taken a very wrong turn xx
> 
> This is also partially based on The Bakery by Arctic Monkeys (from which the title is derived).
> 
> Basically it's one of those never-auditioned-for-txf-but-end-up-meeting-anyway-cause-it's-hl things. I had a lot of mushy fatey feelings that I had to release so here it is, this is it, voila, etc.  
> This is dedicated to Fee and Amy, who are both lovely and great and wonderful.

Louis’ life is the worst.

Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic. Sure, there are kids starving in multiple third world countries (as everyone is told from early childhood to guilt trip them into eating some awful vegetable dish), icebergs melting at both poles and, hey, for all he knows some kid just dropped his ice cream on a sandy beach somewhere on the other side of the world.

But Louis can’t be bothered to care about any of that. Because he’s been robbed. Robbed. By his own mother, no less.

This was meant to be the greatest weekend of his life. He was supposed to go to Leeds festival with Stan, get absolutely wasted and just let loose and forget all of his fucking worries. It was going to be perfect.

Until.

_“You’re coming with to the wedding in Cheshire, Louis, and that’s final. Don’t even try talk your way out of this,” said his mother._

He did anyway. He argued and protested and pleaded and tried to bargain with her, but it was no use. She simply ignored him and continued to prepare for the trip.

The truth is that his mum told him about her close friend Julia’s wedding weeks ago and that he would be expected to attend. He knew this, and it’s not as if he said no; he just hadn’t paid it much mind at the time, hadn’t considered that it could possibly coincide with his own plans. Then, as the time drew nearer, he’d been speaking to his mum about Leeds and his arrangements and he came to the realisation that the events clashed. And that’s when she pulled the musical rug of hope out from underneath his feet.

Which leads to where Louis is now, sat in the passenger seat of his mum’s station wagon with his ear buds blasting loud music in his ears and his arms crossed tight, glaring out the window at the endless expanse of green fields that they pass by.

The poster child of teenage angst.

It just isn’t fair. He‘s eighteen for god’s sake. He’s an adult and therefore should be allowed to make his own decisions. He’s certainly responsible enough, having taken care of his sisters all his life. But his mother told him that as long as he lives at home she still has a certain level of control over what he does. And Julia “was there the day you were born”, so there’s no way she was going to let him off this one. And that’s that.

It’s not like Louis isn’t absolutely itching to move out from his mum’s, don’t get him wrong. It’s just that he’s still waiting on the universities that he applied at to get back to him. He left his applications late because he’d been unsure about what to apply for. His future was something that utterly frightened him, simply because he didn’t know what he wanted to do. He knows deep down that his dream of performing is unrealistic and impractical, and it killed him to admit it at first, but he’d tried to find ways around this.

Then, thankfully, the idea of becoming a drama teacher had hit him. He’d realised that it suits him perfectly and rushed to get his applications in before the deadlines.

Now he’s in a state of limbo, just waiting for some sign of direction in which his life is headed. Leeds was supposed to be the one good thing to take his mind off all that, the stress of waiting, the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of the future.

And now, well. Now he’s just trying to ignore the incessant pounding on the back of his seat made by Lottie kicking it repeatedly. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, hoping that if he wills hard enough for her to stop, she will. He knows that if he opens his mouth he will most certainly yell, so he just immerses himself in the sound of the Fray and allows it to surround him completely. He must find his inner calm.

The drive to Cheshire is about 2 hours long. Towards the end, Louis has relaxed enough to realise that he doesn’t actually know where in the county they’re headed.

“Where are we even going, Mum?” he asks, taking one bud out.

“Jules lives in a little town called Holmes Chapel, love. You’ve been before, when you were very young. I don’t suppose you remember.”

“Not really,” he shrugs.

“We’re nearly there. Are you alright back there, darling?” she glances into the rear view mirror.

“Yes, Mum,” Lottie replies. She’s alone at the back, the rest of Louis’ sisters staying with their grandparents for the weekend, too young to attend the wedding. Also, Louis is not going to babysit all four of them in a different town, over and above everything else.

“Good. Now we’re not staying with Julia but with her fiancé’s family, Anne and Robin. They have a daughter about your age, Lou, so I thought that would be nice for you.”

“Great,” Louis says as unsarcastically as he can, trying his best to understand why being in the presence of another person his age will suddenly make all this okay. He looks around as they drive into the quiet town. It’s small and charming, he supposes, but not enough to make him forget what he could be doing at the moment.

“I want to make a quick stop before we arrive,” his mum says, as she slows the car down and pulls over, the road only slightly wider than the others he’s seen. It must be the main road because it’s lined with shops, most of them looking empty this Friday afternoon. She digs in her bag and pulls out a few notes from her purse. “Lou, be a dear and go into that bakery and choose something nice to say thank you to Anne for having us,” she says with a smile.

He doesn’t bother arguing; his mum is in a cheery mood and he certainly isn’t going to be the one to ruin it. Despite all this, he does still love his mother.

With a huff he grabs the cash, ready to fulfill his duties as Child Slave, and gets out the car. He stretches his legs a bit, and walks into the bakery, the bell above the door pinging softly.

It smells amazing inside. There’s a glass display unit at the front of the shop full of sweet and savoury pastries, muffins, cakes, biscuits, breads and more. The bakery is currently free of customers and a soft folky song plays from the speakers. Louis recognises it – the artist is one of the performers scheduled to play at Leeds this year. How superb.

He walks toward the counter, trying his best to decide which of the delights would best say “thank you for letting me and my Thief Mother stay at your house during the weekend that was supposed to be the best one of my life but now won’t even be close because of said Thief Mother (who is also, in fact, a Child Enslaver)”.

When he finally settles on a cheesecake he looks up only to be met with a pair of big, shining eyes that are way too friendly-looking for Louis to deal with in his current mood.

The cashier, a boy in a pink apron who is definitely younger than Louis, with a head of chestnut curls, smiles brightly at him, revealing a prominent pair of dimples. Despite this kid’s undeniable adorableness, Louis can’t muster up the enthusiasm (or manners) to smile back. He just can’t be his normal spritely self today. The boy’s smile falters for a second, but soon reverts to its previous state.

“Hi there! What can I get for you?” His voice is deeper than expected, and so bloody cheerful, like working this late on a Friday afternoon is the opposite of a chore for him. And just. No. Where does he get off being so happy?

“Uh, yeah, hi mate. Could I get this cheesecake to go?” says Louis, pointing out one of the smaller ones.

“Absolutely! Let me just box it up for you. That’ll be twelve pounds.”

The boy makes quick work of packing up the cheesecake, placing the bakery’s sticker on top and ringing it up at the cash register. Louis hands over the money, still a bit disgruntled by the boy’s mood.

“There you go,” he says, handing over the box, eyes shining bright. “Have a fantastic weekend!”

Louis nods thanks and turns to leave with a scowl. Once out the door he turns to look back at the boy once more in disbelief. He’s smiling, wide as a canyon, and waving. Really and truly waving. Louis shakes his head and gets back into the car.

What a weird kid.

-

“A cheesecake! Oh, how lovely Jay. And it’s from my favourite bakery. Thank you. And you, Louis.” Anne winks at him.

Okay. So Anne is actually a very nice lady and Robin is a very nice man and they also have a very nice home. Anne’s daughter, Gemma, popped into the lounge briefly to meet and greet them, and then retreated to her room. Louis understands. She seems pretty nice too, though. Not that any of that changes things, really, but it could be worse.

“You can go right upstairs to the left and put your bags in Harry’s room, dear. You’ll be staying with him, if that’s alright?” Anne says to him.

Turns out Anne also has a son slightly younger than Louis, but he’s not home yet. Louis makes a gesture that’s something between a shrug and a nod.

“And where is Harry?” his mum asks.

“Oh, he’ll be home soon. He’s just finishing his shift at work.” Anne smiles. “Come, Jay. I’ll show you and Lottie to the guest room.”

Louis finds this elusive Harry’s room easily enough, dumps his bag on the floor and spends the next 20 minutes looking around. The walls are lined with band posters and there’s an old record player along with a stack of vinyls in one corner. He looks through a filled CD rack and finds that he only knows a select few of the artists. So he’s rooming with one of those hipster-music-snob-types is he? He tries not to scoff when he comes across a Spice Girls album. Maybe not, then.

Before he knows it, as he’s examining a set of glittery pens on the desk with slight confusion and more than a few smirks, Anne and his mum are calling him from downstairs to come meet the one and only Harry.

He takes his time going down the staircase, pausing to look at a couple of framed photographs on the wall. He recognises Anne and Robin in a group shot. Next to it is a picture of a slightly younger-looking Anne and two kids on a beach. The girl, who can only be Gemma, is building a sandcastle and next to her is a boy, about 4 or 5, with a dripping ice lolly in one hand and a smile so wide that it takes up half his face. Louis continues to the bottom, praying that this kid isn’t a weirdo or a snob.

When he rounds the corner he takes a moment to have a good internal laugh, because his eyes are met with that same happy, cheeky face from the bakery. He smiles the same beaming smile when he sees Louis, only now with a hint of recognition in his eyes.

 _Cute_ , Louis thinks begrudgingly.

“Harry, this is Jay’s son, Louis,” Anne tells the boy.

“Hello, nice to meet you,” Harry says slow and grinning.

Louis can’t help himself but smile slightly this time as he takes the boy’s proffered hand, skin soft and warm. Jay looks positively charmed.

“Hi,” Louis says back and then turns to wink at Anne, because, hey, Louis can be charming too. “Now I see why it’s your favourite bakery.”

Anne and Harry both laugh and Jay looks slightly puzzled.

“Harry’s been working at Barbara’s for almost two years now,” Anne fills her in.

“Oh, well that’s just wonderful, Harry. Lou, we must stop by again to take something home for Hannah. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

There’s a bit of a pause until Louis realises he should probably respond to this. Right.

“Oh! I uh, yeah. ‘m sure she’d love that, Mum,” he mumbles.

And that’s just one more thing on Louis’ plate to worry about. He hasn’t told his mother that he broke up with Hannah a couple of weeks ago. He’s still trying to come to terms with the fact that he kind of, maybe not exactly, quite possibly, more than likely prefers boys to girls. So yeah, the prospect of having that talk is not exactly exciting to Louis. He’s getting a mild migraine from this conversation alone, to be honest.

His mum seems appeased though, so Louis excuses himself and looks at Harry as if telling him to follow and then turns around, making his way back up to the boy’s room. He hears footsteps behind him a moment later and he takes a seat on the bed as Harry closes the door behind him.

“See you’ve made yourself right at home then,” Harry says, chipper as ever.

“Uh yeah. Thanks, by the way, for letting me room with you. S’probably a bit weird for you, sharing with a stranger.”

Harry shrugs. “Nah, I really don’t mind. I love people.”

Louis looks at him, raising an eyebrow. “All people? That’s gonna get you into trouble one day. I could be a creepy perv for all you know, mate.”

A bark of laughter floods the room when Harry opens his mouth, pink flushing his cheeks. “Well, Louis, I guess there’s really no way of knowing that unless you tried something. I’ll just have to give you the benefit of the doubt.” He gives a tiny wink.

Louis hopes Harry doesn’t catch that his eyeballs practically popping out of his skull. Where on earth does this kid come from? Would he be right in interpreting this as flirting? He wipes the look off his face and replaces it with a smirk. If Harry wants to play this game then he’ll play right back. No one outdoes Louis Tomlinson.

“Well, Harold, the weekend’s only just begun hasn’t it?” he grins.

Harry’s face changes, the mischievous look replaced with one of pure joy as soon as soon as Louis mentions the weekend. “Yes, it has! It’s going to be so lovely. I love weddings,” he says with excitement.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, don’t you? They’re so romantic. And you’re surrounded by your family and friends and the music and the dancing! I can’t wait, and it’s not even mine,” he chuckles.

They talk some more about the wedding and Jules and about Harry’s job and school until the evening begins to set in. Without realising it, Louis’ bad mood starts to dissipate, earlier irritation fading to the back of his mind. Not gone, but definitely reduced.

And it’s not hard to see why. Louis is fascinated by Harry. What sixteen year old boy feels this way about weddings, owns multiple Britney Spears albums and glitter pens, loves his history and maths classes and bakes cakes with old ladies as a job? While at the same time manages to be so cheeky and smug? And god, his face is radiant when he talks about people he loves, his school friends, his mum, his sister. Louis tries not to stare but he’s fixated on Harry’s dimples, so deep that Louis could just eat pudding out of them.

Thankfully, before he lets his thoughts get even creepier, they’re interrupted by Anne knocking and telling them to get ready for Friday night dinner with the wedding party.

They get changed facing away from each other, Louis digging in his bag and blushing slightly, trying not to glance back at the younger boy.

-

They all leave together to the groom, Andrew’s, mother’s house. It’s an old townhouse with aged furniture and antique paintings. They eat meat and gravy with roast potatoes on fancy crockery, crowded around the family dining table.

Louis, Lottie, Gemma and Harry sit together on one end, talking to the other kids in attendance and Louis actually has an okay time. It’s not exactly getting drunk in an electro tent and smoking more cigarettes than he’d ever get away with at home, but Louis tries not to think about it. He hopes no one notices if he’s a little quieter than normal, opting instead to listen to the slow drawl of Harry’s voice and the cheesy yet clever humour he showcases.

When he finishes main course and can’t possibly eat anymore, Louis excuses himself and makes his way to the TV room down the hall, quietly enjoying the fact that Harry follows him. He reaches a worn leather couch with sunken pillows that must’ve been plump at some point and flops onto it, lying on his back. Harry lifts Louis’ legs and takes a seat underneath them at the other end of the couch, as if this a regular thing they do.

“Mate, I am stuffed,” Louis groans, rubbing his stomach and closing his eyes.

“Yeah, same. Aunt Maggie is pretty aces at cooking.”

Louis grunts in agreement. They sit there in silence, the sound of cutlery clinking and chatter among the guests making its way through from the dining room. He’s trying not to focus on the parts of his body in contact with Harry’s, where he can feel Harry’s soft tummy expanding against Louis’ leg as he breathes in and out. He thinks of loud music, bright lights and sweaty dancing instead. Well, that actually doesn’t help matters much. He lets out a long winded sigh.

“Hey, Louis?” Harry says quietly.

“Yeah, Harry.”

“Are you alright?”

Louis opens his eyes to look at Harry, whose eyebrows are slightly furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

“It’s just,” he looks down, examining his own hands. “When you came into the shop today, you seemed, I dunno. Upset. And tonight you were also kind of quiet. I hope, like, it’s not ‘cause of me or anything…” he trails off.

Oh god. Harry feels bad. That is the last thing Louis wants. Harry is possibly the cutest thing he’s has ever met and right now his cheeks are slightly flushed and his eyes downcast. How could anyone ever be upset because of him? And he looks so genuinely concerned about Louis that it makes his heart swell with affection for this boy who he’s only known today.

“Shit no, I promise it’s not you, Harry. I’m just being a dumb twat. The thing is that I was supposed to go to Leeds fest this weekend with my best mate Stan, but Mum said no and so I’ve just been sulking about it. It’s a long story. ‘M sorry. Don’t be upset please.”

Harry looks up, now with a sympathetic look on his face. “Oh. That really sucks, Lou.”

Louis ignores the way his insides positively glow with joy at the nickname and shrugs. “It is what it is, I guess. ‘S okay though, I got to meet you, instead,” he says, winking and giving him a nudge with his foot.

At this, Harry lights up with a thousand kilowatt smile that Louis can’t help but mirror on his own face. “You can talk to me about it if you want.”

So he does, giving Harry the general story without too much detail (he doesn’t want to bore him). Harry listens intently, giving Louis his full attention, and it kind of makes Louis feel really special. Harry looks him right in the eye when he speaks like he’s holding onto every word he says. When he’s done they stay there and talk a bit more, about Louis and his sisters, friends (Louis deliberately leaves out Hannah) and school life (Harry asks a lot of questions, seeming truly interested), until they’re called for dessert. They walk back to the dining room and sit down at the table across from each other.

As Louis helps himself to some chocolate mousse he feels a few soft kicks at his feet and looks up to see Harry casually looking in any direction other than Louis with the beginnings of a smile on his face. When Louis smirks and kicks back, Harry starts digging in to his own dessert, trying to hide his brilliant grin from growing.

Jesus. If Louis doesn’t look away now he’s going to have to do the same.

He is more than slightly screwed.

 -

They don’t really speak again after that until they get home, Louis doing his best not to look at Harry too much. He leans against the car door on the way back, rather focusing on Lottie raving about the night’s dessert than the warm, unrelenting sensation of Harry’s leg next to his.

When they get upstairs Harry helps Louis make up the spare bed on the floor and they each get changed while the other uses the bathroom.

They get in their beds and Harry switches his bedside lamp off, letting darkness consume the room.

“G’night, Louis.”

“Night, Harry.”

Louis doesn’t fall asleep for a while. He just keeps thinking. He can’t get the colour of Harry’s eyes out of his mind. The corners of Harry’s mouth and the apples of his cheeks pulled up into one of his huge smiles, making Louis smile to himself. He thinks of the loud laugh he elicited from the younger boy not once, but many times in the day, and feels his chest swell with secret pride.

He soon hears soft even breaths coming from the bed above him and decides to let his thoughts wander. His mind goes to Harry’s mouth, pink and full and simply luscious.

This is kind of new territory for Louis. He’s never allowed himself to think this much about a boy, to think this far. But Harry’s lips are so pretty. They look incredibly soft, and Louis imagines running his thumb over them, feeling the smoothness against his own rough skin. He lets his mind go further… Imagines pressing their lips together, nipping Harry’s bottom lip gently, sucking even more colour into them, making Harry breathless from it. Louis is getting a bit dizzy thinking about it.

He’s snapped out of it when Harry turns over in bed, making cute little sleep noises and pulling his blanket up higher.

Louis sighs, wonders for the last time that day how and why he’s in this situation, and rolls over, clearing his mind to try and sleep.

 

When Louis wakes up the next morning he opens his eyes to find a pair of round yellow ones staring at him in a decidedly unfriendly way.

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly yells, jumping back.

The black and white cat merely stares at Louis, swishing its tail from side to side.

A few seconds later he hears hurried steps and Harry’s voice.

“Louis? Are you alrigh- Oh,” he says as he walks into his room. “I see you’ve met Dusty then. Hello Dusty Wusty,” he coos as he scoops the treacherous creature up into his arms, cuddling it and rubbing its tummy.

“It looks like it wanted to have me head, Harry. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but you have a murderous cat.”

“Nahh, he’s just curious. Aren’t ya?” He kisses it between its ears and puts it out in the passage.

Louis watches it scamper away and is finally able to focus on the absolutely delicious smell permeating through the house. He sniffs the air, “Christ, what smells so good?”

Harry grins slow and speaks in a lazy morning drawl. “Mum and I made pancakes for breakfast. Everyone else already had, ‘cause they didn’t want to wait for you.”

“Thanks,” Louis grumbles.

“But I didn’t. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Louis’ heart swells. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Our mums and the girls are spending the day in town getting manicures or something, said we should hang out together before the wedding this afternoon.”

“Why didn’t they invite you along?” Louis pouts.

Harry’s cheeks dimple as he rolls his eyes and laughs. “C’mon, Lou. I’ll show you round Holmes Chapel. It’s quite picturesque. You’ll like it.”

 -

There are clouds in the sky, but it’s not a particularly cold day. Louis grabs his jersey anyway before he leaves. Harry wraps a scarf around his neck and pulls a giant grey beanie on his head. It’s adorable, of course, and Louis loves the stray curls that poke out from underneath it.

They set off down the street from Harry’s house, joining a more mainstream road and walking along the grass sidewalk. Harry gives him a mini tour of the town, pointing out landmarks and his friends’ houses and chatting about old memories. They stop by a sweet shop and Louis buys them lemonade in paper cups, causing Harry to blush as he says a shy “thank you”.

He gets chatty again as they reach a field by a bridge and large pond. Louis chews on his straw as Harry points to a tree down by the water.

“Right there, that’s where I had my first kiss,” he grins, pink lips still holding his straw after taking a sip.

“Ah, and who was the lucky lady?” Louis squints one eye and chews absently on his straw. There’s a gap in clouds, letting the sun through to shine on the two of them.

“Girl called Mandy. I had no idea what I was doing, especially ‘cause she was thirteen and I was only eleven.”

“Woah, Styles. You’re quite the lady-killer.”

“I won’t lie, it was pretty steamy.”

Louis bursts out laughing, hopelessly endeared. “She probably didn’t stand a chance, did she, not with those damn curls of yours.” _I certainly don’t._ Harry’s cheeks visibly flush, Louis notes. “Where is she now?”

“She’s moved schools since. And last I heard she actually has a girlfriend.”

“Ouch. I hope your ego’s still intact after that.”

Harry wipes a fake tear from his eye. “I’ve struggled, you know. It’s difficult to get over but with enough love and support I’m sure I can make it through this tough time.”

Louis just shakes his head in mirth and snorts, punching Harry lightly on the arm. “Come on, it’s nearly time to go back. Show me a place where you and your mates actually have fun, Curly.”

“Okay… You asked for it. But don’t blame me if you can’t handle the level of fun we have, Lewis.”

Louis watches him for a few seconds as he turns around with a sarcastic smile and then jogs ahead to catch up.

 -

Harry takes Louis to the arcade in town and it’s awesome. Well, not the arcade itself – it’s pretty underwhelming, though it has all the classic football, driving and shooter games as well as air hockey and a slightly worn down Dance Dance Revolution.

But he has an awesome time with Harry.

They do nearly everything, Louis spending a ridiculous amount of his savings on game tokens, which he may come to regret later, but right now he’s having more fun than he’s had in ages.

They shoot zombies together, race Ferraris, play air hockey (Louis beats Harry 11-8 to which Harry just shrugs and smiles his dimply smile) and take turns on Pacman and Pinball.

They have a few leftover tokens before they get to exchange their tickets won for a prize.

“I challenge you to a dance-off,” Harry says, eyes twinkling towards the old dancing game against the wall.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, mate.”

“Hope you know what you’re in for, Styles. I am a master at Dance Dance Revolution.”

Louis is actually absolute crap, but it’s worth spurring Harry on just to see the defiant look of focus on his face when he puts their tokens in and selects a song.

The electronic music starts up and it’s possibly the fastest song he’s ever heard. _Bastard_ , he thinks and Harry looks over at him with a smirk.

And then the arrows begin flying up the screen at a preposterous pace and Louis has already muddled up the dance, feet stumbling across the footpads and nearly falling off the bloody thing.

He looks over to Harry, who’s getting a “perfect” on almost every arrow, and watches his face, determined and lit up by the bright screen. Louis is hit by a huge wave of affection towards the younger boy. There’s something so innocent and genuine about him. He’s open and uncomplicated and just fun to be around. He can see himself hanging out with Harry much more in the future. His stomach lurches unexpectedly at that thought. He realises that second that Harry has made his self-pity completely disappear.

Louis snaps out of it and tries to get back in the game, laughing out loud every time he misses, trash talking Harry about how he’s definitely going to beat him, causing him to laugh manically. He laughs even harder when he peeks at Louis’ screen and sees how awfully he’s doing. Louis lets out a string of swear words and by the end of the song he’s got Harry with tears in his eyes from laughter causing his footwork to get sloppy.

Harry still wins though. He punches his fists in the air and yells “YEESSSSSSS” in Louis’ face and it’s just so cute that Louis has to tickle him. He pokes at his ribs playfully and Harry bursts out laughing again and tries to squirm away from him.

They eventually make it to the prizes counter with enough tickets to buy both of them prizes. They decide to exchange gifts, Louis getting Harry a plush SpongeBob toy and Harry choosing a football for Louis.

Louis tries not to blush like an idiot and pushes away the part of him that’s feeling like he’s on a date. Obviously this isn’t one and he hasn’t been on a date with a boy before, but if this is what he has to look forward to then he’s definitely not complaining. And the fact that he’s here with _Harry_ makes it all the better.

He shakes himself out of Sap Mode and puts his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “We’ve got a wedding to catch, Curly. Best be on our way.”

At the mention of the wedding Harry perks up and leads the way home.

 -

They sit together in the church pews at the ceremony that afternoon, watching Jules walk down the aisle. Well, Harry is at least. Louis is trying his hardest to focus on the bride, but really, he’s too caught up with the sixteen-year-old wonder beside him, who’s too enthralled with the proceedings to notice.

Louis stands quietly as the minister reads out the customary words, his hands clasped in front of him, stealing glances at Harry from time to time. Gemma, on Harry’s other side, catches him once and raises an eyebrow with a smirk, turning back to face the front.

 _Shit. Way to be subtle,_ he thinks, cheeks reddening.

He doesn’t look back again until they say their vows, at which point Harry returns the look back at Louis with actual tears in his eyes, honestly. Louis is hopelessly endeared and wonders (not for the first time today) if Harry is an actual real person.

To be fair though, they were beautiful vows. Well, he assumes they were. Oops.

When it’s time for Jules and Andrew to kiss (Harry positively swooning by this point), Louis can’t help himself and wraps a protective arm around Harry’s slim waist (he's _crying_ and needs _comfort_ , okay? Shut up), placing his hand there, a little unsure. He’s taken by surprise when Harry turns in to him and converts it into a tight, warm hug and tucking his head in to Louis’ chest as the rest of the wedding guests cheer for the couple up front.

“That was so beautiful,” Harry chokes up.

Louis’ quick to recover, hugging Harry back with flushed cheeks and inhaling the clean smell of his curls. And that really just hits home for him. He has a beautiful boy in his arms, so passionate and life-loving and generally wonderful. His stomach does a huge swoopy thing.

“S-sure was,” he stammers out, sounding way more nervous than he expects or wants to.

It’s just. It feels amazing being this close to Harry. His curls are tickling his chin and his arms are wrapped around Louis’s torso in a vice like grip. Louis’ skin positively tingles with the sensation and he clutches onto Harrys back, perhaps a little longer than he should. Oh well. Let it never be said that Louis Tomlinson doesn’t live in the moment.

When he pulls back he’s only slightly breathless and adjusts his dress shirt around the collar with clumsy hands. It’s just ‘cause the room’s temperature has risen in the past few seconds. That’s definitely what happened. Or something.

Louis is fine.

 -

So maybe this isn’t Louis’ first trip to the bar. Maybe he is getting his third rum and coke of the evening (he’s of age, sue him). And okay, _maybe_ he’s trying to get away from his table’s clear view of the dance floor containing one slightly tipsy but entirely adorable Harry Styles. In a suit. Dancing with Lottie like there’s no tomorrow.

When he first saw them he excused himself and got up from the round table he’d been allocated in the seating plan and ambled to the bar in the corner of the hall.

The thing is, he can’t stop _watching_.

He looks over again just in time to see Harry twirl Lottie around and how her eyes sparkle with elation as she laughs. It makes Louis’ skin tingle with emotion and affection at this fucking anomaly of a boy who brings so much joy to his sister with such a small act.

Well, the way to Louis’ heart is through his family, after all.

He doesn’t even know what’s going on in his brain right now. It’s a giant scramble of alcohol and soppy wedding speeches and curls and uni applications and Leeds fest and Stan and green eyes and arcade tickets and strobe lights and fancy catering and Harry Harry _Harry_. The more he thinks about Harry, the more everything else just fades into the realm of irrelevance and the more he _wants_. He only just met him yesterday but it feels like he knows him, like he should know him more, like he could learn every flaw and insecurity about him and still never not want to be around him.

Jesus, Louis hopes it’s the rum doing this to him and not his own mind.

Louis looks away when he sees his mum approaching the bar. She joins him and orders a drink before nudging his arm.

“Having a good time?”

He shrugs with one shoulder and smiles. “Yeah. You?”

“I am. I think Lotts is having the most fun though,” she winks and nods toward the dance floor. Oh god, Harry’s charmed his way into Jay’s heart too (Louis cannot blame her, sadly). She may also be slightly tipsy.

Louis follows her gaze and says nothing, but his mouth grins extra wide without his permission. Damn it.

He sips absently at his rum and coke to stop his mouth from betraying him, eyes locked on the dancing pair, trying to ignore his mother’s inquisitive staring at him.

She chuckles and kisses him on the forehead, clearly dropping whatever she might have said. Good. “Go on and dance. Have fun, love.”

Louis sighs, shakes his head in the hopes of restoring some order up there and downs the rest of his drink. He doesn’t even know what he thinks he’s doing but he heads toward the spot in the room which he wants to be at most. If that happens to be the place Harry is currently occupying, it’s merely a happy coincidence.

Louis walks to the dance floor with a newfound determination, ignoring the ever-present lurking of insecurity in his mind. Neither Harry nor his sister see him approach, Lottie still twirling, their hands clasped above her head.

They stop when Louis taps Harry on the shoulder, and Harry meets Louis’ eyes in surprise.

“Mind if I cut in?” Louis asks.

Harry nods and steps back, nudging Lottie towards Louis, which. Yeah.

Not exactly what Louis had in mind.

He kisses Lottie’s hand and whispers to her that Mum’s by the bar. She gives him a funny look, but eventually shakes her head, her hair stringy on her forehead from sweating, and wanders off.

Louis watches her for a second and then turns back, rolling his eyes fondly, to Harry, who’s looking a little puzzled.

“I meant you, Haz.”

Harry’s face flushes and his eyes widen. “Oh.”

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it and he never would be able to tell you, but Louis places a hand on his sternum and bows.

A wild grin spreads across the younger boy’s features and then, to Louis’ utmost disbelief, Harry Styles curtsies back. He fucking _curtsies_.

It catches Louis so off guard that the next thing he knows, Harry’s hands are wrapped around his and the room is whirling. The only thing in focus is the curly haired boy in front of him as they spin like a wheel to the jazzy sounds of Mambo No. 5.

“C’mon, Louis!” Harry yells above the music.

Louis takes control and stops their spinning, keeping their hands attached and dancing with Harry, moving their arms back and forth and above their heads. Louis forgets about everything else as he twirls Harry around. When he twists their bodies back together he thinks to himself, still slightly inebriated, _fuck it_ , and dips him, keeping his hand supportive across Harry’s lower back. The younger boy practically squeals in delight and they laugh together, getting lost in the music. Louis has never felt so carefree.

They slow down as Breakeven by The Script comes on. Louis throws an arm around Harry’s shoulder next to him, grinning down fondly at the boy.

“I love this song,” Harry says, grinning back.

“Me too,” says Louis, swaying them to the beat of the song. “Y’know, I went to their gig in Manchester last year. Unbelievable.”

“No way, so did I! In February?”

“Yeah!” Louis’ not sure why his heart is pounding so hard. But it leaps at the way Harry smiles just then.

“That’s sick.”

Harry looks away, but Louis keeps staring. The purple, green and blue lights flicker across his pretty, smooth features. Louis just wants to reach out and touch.

_You’re drunk, you’re drunk, you’re drunk._

He’s still got the remnants of a smile on his face when Harry turns back to him, singing along to the song at full volume.

“I’M FALLING TO PIEEEEEEEEECES, YEAH.”

Louis throws his head back and laughs, joining in for the next chorus, adding dramatic hand movements and all.

 -

After the song they make their way back to their table. Louis sees that a few guests are starting to leave, saying their goodbyes to Jules and Andrew by the buffet.

Harry goes to his mother and Louis sees him whisper something in her ear. Whatever he says makes her nod and kiss him on the cheek and send a smile over in Louis’ direction. He looks at Harry quizzically as he weaves around the table towards Louis.

“Let’s go somewhere else, yeah? Mum said we could leave if we want.”

Louis will pretty much follow Harry anywhere at this point, but he’s not about to say as much out loud. So he settles for a shrug. “Sure. Where to?”

“Somewhere quieter.”

“Is this your grand plan to seduce me, Mr. Styles?”

Harry rolls his eyes and blushes and wow, Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of the feeling he gets from putting that lovely pink colour there on his cheeks.

“Shut up, Tomlinson,” he says shaking his head, the corners of his mouth twitching.

They grab their jackets and begin to exit the room, Louis’ hand gently guiding Harry by the small of his back and fuck, Louis isn’t even surprised by his ridiculous behaviour at this point anymore. It’s not like Harry’s complaining, at any rate.

“Hold up,” Louis says as they pass the bar. “I need you to distract the bartender. Use that charm of yours and don’t let him see me, ‘kay?” He nudges the boy toward the opposite side of the bar and watches as Harry follows his instructions without question and begins to chat to the man behind it, no doubt claiming his full attention with ease.

Louis doesn’t hear what he says over the music but he sees the endeared smile on the bartender’s face. _I know, mate_ , he thinks, sighing. He snaps out of it though, remembering the task at hand and looks around. There’s no else around who would see or even care, so with one quick swipe of the hand, he grabs one of the bottles of champagne lined up in rows atop the bar and sticks it under his jacket, silently grateful that all his years of delinquency at school weren’t completely worthless.

He manages to get Harry’s attention and they politely bid the unsuspecting bartender farewell as they duck out of the venue, half-running, with mischief in their eyes and giggles in their lungs.

 -

They walk through the quiet Cheshire streets. It’s about 2am and the only light they get is from the occasional streetlamp or two along the way. The night is peaceful and Louis’ ears ring at the transition from loud music to this.

They walk side-by-side, Harry sometimes skipping at random, them sometimes bumping into each other gently, but most of the time they’re in sync. Louis’ not sure where they’re going, but he doesn’t ask again. He doesn’t mind. His mind is revelling in the alcohol he drank and the presence of Harry next to him. He’s content, he is.

They stop when they reach a huge patch of grass surrounded by a chain link fence. It takes Louis a beat to realise it’s a football field. He squints his eyes and finds a goal post on either side, as well as a building across the grass that can only be a school.

“Do you go here, then?”

Harry shrugs, “Yeah, seeing as it’s the only high school in Homes Chapel and all.”

“Huh.”

Louis stands and watches Harry, who has started running his hands along the fence, apparently looking for something.

“Nice robbery skills by the way,” Harry nods at the bottle. “We should try a bank next time,”

“That, we should.” Louis replies. “We make a good team, you and I.”

Harry nods, grinning slightly and hums under his breath “A dream team.”

Harry appears to find what he’s looking for because he exclaims a small “aha!” and the next thing Louis knows, Harry’s on the other side of the fence.

“Oi, how’d you get there? Is this breaking and entering?” he grins mischievously.

Harry just giggles and holds open a toddler-sized tear in the fence that is rather well concealed. “Through here.”

“Knew you had a rebellious streak, Styles,” Louis says as he climbs through. Louis might be in love.

“My friend Jonny’s on the footie team. He showed me this. He knows I like to, erm. Watch the team practice ‘n stuff. Yeah.”

“You don’t play?”

“I love to play, I’m just utter crap at it. I don’t mind, but I can’t say the team feels the same.”

“I was team captain back in school. Loved it. Is there a ball here? We can kick around if you want.”

“And waste a perfectly good opportunity to sip expensive wine in the stands like we’re at the Royal bloody Ascot?” Harry puts on a very proper accent, gesturing at the spectator stands.

Louis chuckles.

“Alright, alright, Posh Boy. As you’d have it.” He hands Harry the bottle and starts climbing the stands, his dress shoes clomping on the wood in the silence of the night, Harry following close behind.

“Hey,” Harry pants as they ascend. “This kinda reminds me of Grease.”

Louis stops and turns around, staring down at Harry wordlessly.

Harry stares back and continues hesitantly. “You know, the movie? Tell me more, tell me more?”

Louis just keeps staring at Harry. “That is my favourite movie ever made.” Okay, he’s being a little dramatic (as he’s known to be from time to time), but Louis may very well have just found his soulmate here.

_Oh my god, it’s just a movie. Shut up._

He’s so drunk.

A wide smile of relief breaks across Harry’s face. “Since we’re on the topic of great musicals, have you seen Moulin Rouge?”

And without further warning, Harry runs past Louis and stands tall on the top step, spreading his arms and singing loudly, Ewan McGregor style. “LOVE LIFTS US UP WHERE WE BELONG. WHERE EEEAAAAGLES FLYYY, ON A MOOOUUUNTAIN HIGH!”

Louis doesn’t even try pretend he doesn’t know the words and joins Harry on the step. “LOVE MAKES US ACT LIKE WE ARE FOOLS, THROW OUR LIIIIIVES AWAY FOR ONE HAPPY DAY.”

They sing together “WE CAN BE HEROES, JUST FOR ONE DAY.” and burst into loud laughter as they collapse down onto the hard wooden step on top of each other. Louis grabs the bottle and spends a few seconds trying to pop the cork off, slightly struggling through the remnants of his giggles.

“That was quite possibly the cheesiest thing I’ve ever done,” says Louis.

“Hey, sometimes cheesy is okay. Especially when you’ve had a drink or two.”

Louis just shakes his head and takes a large gulp of champagne. He hands it to Harry, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “You know, your voice is pretty good. Behind all that cheese.”

Harry ducks his head slightly as he swallows. “Thanks. You too, sounded good.”

Louis snorts, “I was actually gonna audition for the X-Factor this year. I chickened out though.”

“So was I!” Harry turns to him, eyebrows raised. “Only, I couldn’t make it ‘cause I had an exam on the day.”

Louis’ heart stutters at that, his brain yelling words at him that he tries to push down. _Fate. Destiny._ Terrifying things.

“Huh. Maybe we would have met each other earlier.” He affects nonchalantly, not without effort. He takes the bottle back, bringing it to his lips.

“Yeah, maybe.” The thoughtful smile in Harry’s voice is audible.

Even in this intoxicated state, Louis can’t help but feel like the universe around him is churning, but settling down too. Everything feels like it is how it should be, or that it will be. He feels strangely comfortable. He’s with a boy he just met the day before, but feels like they’ve known each other for a lot longer than that. And somehow it feels normal. Like it’s right.

He marvels at Harry’s silhouette in the darkness as he looks up at the sky, leaning back on his hands behind him. His curls decorate his face and catch the light, like a lovely halo. A small amount of fog leaves his lips every so often as he breathes lightly. God, he’s so pretty and cute. Louis resists shifting closer, not for the first time this weekend.

“Hey,” Harry says, breaking the silence that’s filled the space between them. “I hope you’ve ended up having a good time. Like, I know Holmes Chapel’s hardly some sick music festival, but, I dunno. I’ve had fun with you.” He shrugs.

Louis absently swings his legs under the bench. God he was just so sweet, in ways unlike anyone Louis’ ever met.

“Harry, I have had fun. Honestly. I didn’t really know what to expect this weekend, but I think it was more than just Leeds that made me act like that. I… kinda had to take my mind off other things too.”

He pauses. He might as well tell Harry, who’s nodding with understanding, very slightly nudging closer to Louis. He takes it as a cue to keep going.

“Like, um. My girlfriend. Or, ex-girlfriend, rather.”

Harry turns to him, swinging his legs at the same rhythm as Louis’. “Hannah, right?”

“Yeah. Mum doesn’t know that I actually broke up with her a couple weeks ago.” He hesitates before saying the next sentence. His filter isn’t in top form at this current moment, but he’d be lying if he said he won’t regret at least testing the waters here, to see if this could possibly become… anything? Fuck it. “She also has no idea that I,” he takes a deep breath, “most probably like boys the way I should like Hannah.” He stares at his hands, fingers still twisting.

“Oh,” Harry says quietly, a few moments later. His legs have slowed down. He sounds thoughtful.

“Yeah,” Louis smiles slightly. He picks up the wine cork and fiddles with it, not daring to look up. If Harry has any issues with this revelation, he steels himself for it.

Nothing comes though.

Louis glances up, sees Harry just looking at him, a patient look on his face.

“That was the first time I’ve said that out loud. Bloody hell.”

“Louis, that’s amazing.” Harry looks down at his own hands and then grins shyly up at him. “You’re kind of amazing.”

Louis lets out a little whoosh of air, smiling at Harry. “I’m really far from it, mate.”

Then before he can even process what is happening, Louis feels a pair of soft lips against his cheek and the sweet sound of Harry kissing him quickly. He’s too dazed to do anything about it except feel the glowing afterheat of where Harry’s lips were and try to keep his thudding heartbeat silent enough for the other boy not to hear.

When Harry pulls back with a blush, dimples out in full force and unable to conceal his escaping grin, he simply says “You’re not.”

Louis just stares at him wordlessly, unsure about what’s about to happen next. If anything is going to happen. Was that an invitation to kiss Harry? Oh god, what if he was just being sweet and friendly and it meant nothing? He’s looking at him now contemplatively. Maybe Louis should pull in? Fuck, he’s questioning everything right now and has quite possibly forgotten his name. He can’t stop staring at Harry’s plump lips in the poor light. They look dark and so kissable. Okay, he’s going to do it. He’s going to kiss Harry. He steels himself and rubs his thighs nervously.

That’s when Harry stands up lazily and rubs his eyes. “Let’s go home, Lou. I’m sleepy.”

 _Oh._ Louis swallows audibly and exhales in a mix of relief and disappointment.

_Smooth, Tommo._

He grabs the unfinished bottle and follows Harry. They make their way down the stairs wordlessly. Exhaustion has begun to creep on Louis too and they take their time walking home, neither saying much. They make eye contact and smile here and there and Louis begins to feel a little better about before.

The serenity of the time they’re spending together is wonderful and Louis is grateful for it. He makes the decision, here and now, to make sure Harry is a part of his life in the future. Maybe when he finishes school they could live in the same city. Maybe they would study together. It sounds crazy, yet Louis is so sure of it. He’s met Harry and he wants to be closer to him. He’s never clicked so well with someone in such a short amount of time – surely he shouldn’t ignore that.

He smiles at the thought of them getting to know each other better in the years to come. His thoughts drift to them seeing their favourite bands in concert and going to restaurants and clubs and sharing friends and doing homework together. He imagines holding Harry’s hand, of Harry smiling at him, leaning in to his personal space just like he did tonight, except instead of kissing him on the cheek Louis would turn his face and they would kiss properly. He gets goosebumps thinking about it. Yeah, he could roll with that kind of future.

They reach the house and all the lights are off except for the one outside the front door. Harry lets them in quietly, putting a finger to his lips. They giggle conspiratorially as they tip-toe through the entrance and up the stairs to Harry’s room. They go about getting changed, not caring about doing it in front of each other tonight. Harry opts for just plaid pyjama pants and Louis wears his boxers and a vest. They chat about the wedding and the night they had as they brush their teeth one after the other (Louis refuses to acknowledge how domestic and comfortable it all feels) and flop onto their respective beds after Harry shuts the light off.

“That was fun,” Harry whispers.

“Yeah, it was. Thanks for showing me around. I liked the football field.”

“You’re welcome. ‘M glad you had fun. ” Harry gives a quiet yawn and shuffles around under his duvet. “G’night, Louis.”

Louis bites his lip. “Goodnight, Harry.”

The room is silent, as is the street outside. The curtains are open and the streetlights shine pale orange rectangles of light on the bedroom walls. He looks around at all the posters up there, at the cupboard, at the door. Taking it in, storing it away with everything else he’ll remember about Harry.

Louis is going home tomorrow. Back to Donny, back to waiting. Away from Harry, who still has two years left of school to finish off. His mind starts buzzing with restlessness. He feels like he just needs to do _something_. The night feels incomplete. He shifts around on his mattress and turns to face Harry’s bed beside him. He’s not sure if Harry’s asleep yet.

His mind wanders to all the time they spent together over the past day and a half. From seeing that ridiculously happy boy in the bakery waving goodbye, to being properly introduced to him. To all the cheeky jabs he made and winks he sent his way. To watching him clumsily knock over his sister’s glass at dinner last night, to sitting together on that lumpy couch. Seeing Harry’s face first thing in the morning and eating pancakes alone together in the kitchen as Dusty watched from the windowsill. He thinks of how the noon sunlight fell upon Harry’s face and the shadows it created from his pretty curls.

He remembers the look of victory on Harry after winning at the arcade and how he bit his lip thinking of what prize to give Louis. The way Harry turned to him as Julia and Andrew recited their vows. He thinks of how Harry finds everything beautiful, especially marriage. He remembers dancing with him, fast and slow, in time with each other and not. How they worked together to steal that goddamn bottle. And lastly their quiet conversation on the football stands. They went to that same concert. They were meant to audition for the X-Factor. Harry found it important that Louis had a good time. _Harry_ enjoyed their time together. He accepts that Louis likes boys.

_You’re kind of amazing._

That warm feeling expands in his chest again and suddenly he has to do something. He’s leaving tomorrow and he doesn’t know when he’ll see Harry next. He’s too pumped right now to talk himself down at this point.

He doesn’t even think as he whispers out, “Harry?”

Above, Harry doesn’t reply but turns onto his back and his left arm drops down next to Louis.

Louis’ not sure if he’s awake or not but he decides to take a chance and gently touches his fingers to Harry’s, just a brush of skin. It’s strangely calming for Louis, his heart rate fluttering. Harry doesn’t recoil or move his hand. So he does it again, this time clasping his fingers with a little more pressure. The next second he feels a responding pressure from Harry. He smiles instantaneously.

So this is not all in his head.

He watches their hands as he begins to feel Harry softly stroke his thumb across Louis’ knuckles. His heart is probably about to fucking burst.

If he doesn’t do it now he knows he’ll regret it.

He can do this. He’s Louis fucking Tomlinson and he’s _fearless_.

With a galloping chest he lets go of Harry’s hand and sits up, moving onto his knees and kneeling against Harry’s bed.

He looks down at Harry’s face in the dim streetlight and he’s met with the younger boy’s eyes already on him.

“Harry,” he whispers again.

A soft and open look comes over Harry’s face and Louis just knows this is it.

_Do it._

His mind goes quiet as he slowly bends down towards Harry’s waiting gaze and _finally_ touches their lips in a tender kiss.

Louis’ nervous as fuck and he moves slowly, simply kissing Harry’s plump lips, but Harry is returning it, just as tentatively. Then he feels Harry’s mouth spread into a wide smile against his and Louis knows he hasn’t fucked up. He smiles back and inhales through his nose as they struggle to kiss properly from it. Then he feels a hand coming to rest on the back of his head, reattaching their lips.

They begin to kiss properly then, grins fading as they focus on moving their lips together. It’s Harry who sucks Louis’ bottom lip into his mouth and licks along Louis’ upper lip. Louis takes it as a cue to use his tongue too, licking softly into Harry’s mouth, slow and sweet. Harry’s hand begins to comb through his hair and Louis readjusts his position so that his bum is sitting on the edge of the bed. He uses this change in position to bring a hand to Harry’s jaw and strokes his thumb along the ridge. He runs it down to hold his neck and then moves his mouth to kiss Harry’s jaw on the other side a few times. He smiles as he hears Harry’s breath hitch and feels his other hand come to rest on Louis’ upper back.

He kisses his jaw and his cheek and then moves his hands up to run his fingers through those damn curls. He watches as Harry’s eyes close in a satisfied smile and he practically purrs like a little kitten. God he is so fucking adorable. And Louis gets to kiss him right now! He can’t actually believe this.

He surges down again to attach their lips, kissing him a lot deeper this time. Harry responds, tugging on Louis’ hair and tilting his head up. Louis hears absolutely nothing other than their heavy breathing and feels nothing other than the tingling in his toes and the warm sensation of their mouths, meeting again and again, struggling to get enough of each other. It’s the most passionate kiss of Louis’ life. (And it’s his first boy. If all boys are half as good as this then Louis is definitely not straight.)

They stay like that for a while exchanging kisses and breaths (and a good amount of saliva). He kisses and kisses and kisses Harry, hard and soft, rough and gentle and thoroughly, until he is well and truly breathless. They come to a stop, resting their foreheads against each other’s until they can finally calm down.

Harry looks up at Louis, smiling shyly. “So, um. You’re really fit,” he whispers.

Louis bursts into soft laughter and soon Harry joins in too. They lie there, giggling into each other’s mouths.

Louis presses another solid, lovely kiss to Harry’s lips and whispers into Harry’s ear. “I’ve kind of wanted to do this since yesterday.”

Harry shivers slightly. “Me too.”

They laugh again and absently play with each other’s hair for a few minutes, Louis resting his chin on Harry’s chest.

Eventually Louis sighs. “Okay, Styles, we should get some sleep.”

Harry lets out a little groan but doesn’t protest – he does look tired now. He brings Louis’ face up and places a sleepy kiss on his forehead.

Fuck, Louis might just die.

Instead, though, he holds Harry’s chin and pecks him three times on the lips and then once more on his smooth cheek.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

He pulls himself away before he can do anything else and flops down onto the mattress. He gets no reply, instead hears the rhythmic breathing of an asleep Harry. He smiles up at the ceiling, hardly believing his life right now.

He falls asleep easily, and so happy.

 -

When he wakes up he’s alone in Harry’s room, no cat this time either. He makes his way down to the kitchen and everyone is there bustling about. Gemma’s busy showing Lottie something on her laptop, Robin is reading the paper at the table, Anne and Mum are preparing food and Harry’s at the stove frying eggs.

When he spots Louis he gives him a warm smile, though his cheeks are rosy. Louis is pretty sure his face is in the same state.

He greets everyone and they all have breakfast together, reflecting on the wedding and the weekend, and chatting about anything that pops up. Louis and Gemma tease their younger siblings, who kick back at them and it all feels so normal. It’s lovely and Louis does not think about how well their families get on. He does not.

After breakfast Mum tells Louis and Lottie to pack up their things. Harry volunteers to help Louis (to his delight) and Louis really doesn’t have all that much to pack up so they end up putting the spare mattress away and sprawling out on Harry’s bed chatting about music and other things that allow Louis to stare unabashedly at Harry. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so reluctant to leave Holmes Chapel.

When Louis is called from downstairs to come, he really doesn’t want to. This weekend turned out so much better than he could have hoped and the fact that it’s over just makes him feel up in the air.

They get up off the bed and he looks at Harry, who’s grinning at him with what he’s come to know as a very fond expression not given to many other people. It makes his insides heat up fast.

He closes the gap between them, pulls Harry into a hug which he readily returns. Harry tucks his face into his neck and Louis takes in the smell of his clothes and skin and hair one last time. He pulls back reluctantly.

“So. It was nice meeting you, Harry Styles.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Louis Tomlinson. And you know, maybe one day we’ll go to Leeds together.”

The thought of that makes Louis ridiculously happy. “One hundred percent.”

He’s unsure about what to do as they just stand there grinning at each other. Can he kiss Harry again or was that just a drunken thing last night? He doesn’t know. So like an idiot he holds out his hand toward Harry to shake.

_Idiot._

Harry just stares at his hand with a smirk. He looks up and meets Louis’ eyes expectantly.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

Louis packs out laughing, relieved, and drops his bag off his shoulder as he happily steps forward into Harry’s arms again and holds his head with both hands, smashing their lips together one last time. Harry lets out a little moan of approval and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist. They’re about the same height and it’s just so easy and comfortable doing this and Louis is genuinely going to miss it, despite only doing it twice. Their lips move together naturally and perfectly and they just _fit_.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Lottie stomping up the stairs calling Louis’ name and pull apart just before she opens the door to the room.

“We’re going, Lou,” she informs.

“Yeah, okay, Lotts,” he replies, eyes not leaving Harry’s.

She turns around and goes. Harry picks up his bag for him and puts it on Louis’ shoulder with a soft smile and a peck to the cheek.

Louis feigns casually following Harry downstairs while his stomach does its somersaults, because honestly.

Honestly.

At the foot of the stairs everyone says their goodbyes, Jay thanking Anne for having them, telling each other that they’re welcome anytime.

“Seriously, you should all come to Donny some time,” Louis says, looking at Harry. He berates himself the second he does it. God could he be more embarrassingly obvious?

“That would be lovely, dear,” Anne says. “I’m sure Harry would love a chance to see where you grew up too.”

Harry just smiles, all dimply and adorable. Suddenly his eyes widen. “Oh! I forgot to give you all something.” He runs to the kitchen and quickly comes back with a packaged box. It has the bakery’s stamp on it.

“I made a quick run to Barbara’s this morning. Thought you guys would enjoy it for the road.”

He hands it to Louis and makes sure no one’s looking when he whispers, “You open it.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, but nods and tucks the box under his free arm.

Jay thanks Harry with a tight hug and it sets off a hugging spree among the rest of them. Anne squeezes Louis warmly and rubs his upper arm, telling him he’s welcome to come back whenever he wants, Robin gives him a firm handshake and Gemma hugs him with an uncomfortably knowing look in her eye. He’ll have to watch out for her in the future.

Finally he gets to Harry, who’s watching him with a twinkle in his eye as Louis approaches. Before he can reach out to hug him Harry sticks out his hand to shake, a shit-eating grin on his face. The bastard. Louis shakes his head and grabs Harry’s hand, shaking it slowly, perfectly satisfied with their earlier goodbye anyway and grateful for this last touch of his warm hand.

Harry clears his throat and says, “It was good meeting you, Louis.”

Louis smirks, “You too, mate. Been a real lads’ weekend, innit?”

He watches as Harry keeps his smile in check, laughter threatening to burst through like sunshine. God he’s going to miss that and he’s only known it for a couple of days.

Louis truly is fucked.

He sighs and gives everyone a final wave and heads out the door behind his mum and Lottie. The fond look on Harry’s face is already embedded in his mind as he walks through the garden to the car.

As they leave the village Louis finally opens the box. Inside it is a cheesecake exactly like the one he’d picked on Friday. And next to it lies a cupcake – chocolate, his favourite flavour, he notes with glee.

Written atop it in icing are several digits which Louis soon realises to be a phone number. Smiling stupidly, he makes quick work of entering the number into his phone and proceeds to take a couple large bites of the cupcake so that it’s impossible to tell what the icing was before and passes the rest to an eager Lottie.

It’s then that he spots the note lying at the bottom of the box where the cupcake used to sit. He picks it up and notices that it’s been sprayed with cologne. He snorts. What a sentimental dork.

Keeping the note hidden from his mum and sister, and finding it impossible to wipe the idiotic grin off his face, he reads:

_I’m glad I met you in the bakery._  
_And got you for the weekend._  
_PS. You’re not just “kind of” amazing. X_

It takes Louis a good twenty minutes to get his chest to loosen up and his heartbeat regular again as they speed past the fields and farmlands of Cheshire. He wouldn’t think they’re the same as when they were on their way to Holmes Chapel, for they all seemed a lot duller to Louis before.

His smile is still plastered to his face when they arrive back home and Louis realises that whatever and wherever his future is going to be, he’s excited for it.

**Author's Note:**

> pukey


End file.
